


Sag Dem Teufel in dir Guten Tag

by Billywick



Category: Defense of the Ancients | Dota, Dota 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 19:16:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2633153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Billywick/pseuds/Billywick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There he stood, the one who had bested him today, and the one who had done nothing but cause mayhem to the radiant defenders. His enemies knew him as Terrorblade, Magina called him Illidan, and brother." /birthday pwp between AM and TB for my lovely maelikki!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sag Dem Teufel in dir Guten Tag

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maelikki](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=maelikki).



> So this is basically birthday pwp for maelikki, who has long since wished to read about the special brotherly bond between AM and TB. Yes, they will always be brothers no matter how hard volvo wipes it away. Enjoy. /also this title is a song title and completely unrelated. okay maybe slightly.

“It’s not your fault, Magina. There was nothing you could have done.”

Nortrom’s voice was soothing and apologetic, but it lacked the true conviction that Magina had hoped for. Or maybe he had just been ready to accept the fact that even his strength had not been enough this day. The Dire had chosen their heroes well, and consequently won the battle before he, the Anti-Mage, even had the chance to shine in his element. Of course, Nortrom had done his utmost to keep the onslaught at bay, but against such a conglomerate of demons, the Silencer could sway little. It didn’t help that the teamwork between the Radiant defenders had been abysmal at the very best. 

Still. The battle in itself was not over and Magina was not done with his work for today. Not that Nortrom could know of the ritual that followed a lost battle. He couldn’t and shouldn’t know. He’d be so disappointed in his best friend and that was something Magina couldn’t stomach at all. Nortrom needed to be proud of him, always.

So he had to make his exit swiftly and quietly. At least he knew one fact about Nortrom that could help him in such a situation.

“It’s still a loss we shouldn’t have taken, Nortrom. What are you gonna do now? Pay tribute to vile sorcery?”

The Silencer had the decency to flush. Ever since his tryst with the Invoker had been exposed (quite spectacularly by catching them in the act during a battle), the elven warrior was often mysteriously absent and suspiciously happy when he reappeared.

It was safe to say Nortrom was getting some, however immoral the how and why took place.

“I’m not paying tribute to anything.”

“Sure, whatever. Pull his stupid hair for me whilst you’re fucking, hm?”

“GoodBYE Magina.”

Nortrom disappeared with a blush and indignation in his step and that suited Magina perfectly fine as he turned himself to head back to the rift in their lands.

The Dire side was a memoriam to death and decay, but it was quiet and oddly peaceful. He supposed death was a peaceful thing in itself, when you took away the pain of getting there via murder. 

But it wasn’t the scenery he’d come to find. The lurking scent of sulphur and a blue shine had Magina round into a little path between the ghostly trees. There he stood, the one who had bested him today, and the one who had done nothing but cause mayhem to the radiant defenders. His enemies knew him as Terrorblade, Magina called him Illidan, and brother.

The smirk on his face was nothing new indeed, but the gleeful air of victory was making a guest appearance today.

“Magina.”

“Terrorblade. I’m not doing it with your illusions while you watch in the bushes, perv.”

A deep chuckle resounded thrice and the image of Illidan behind Magina faded away. The real, imposing and dark figure of his demonic marauder brother emerged slowly, taking his time with measured steps and a grin on his lips. Malice and warmth contended for dominance in his eyes, both emotions he tended to encapsulate around his twin.

“You can stop grinning. You know I can kick your ass from here to your Ancient, right?”

“Oh Magina. Then what happened today? Weren’t feeling it?”

“That’s not-”

“Or was your friend too distracted by elven dick to help you properly?”

“Shut up! Nortrom ain’t got nothing to do with this! What do you want?!”

“Aw, baby brother, I don’t want you to be all sullen.” Illidan dipped his head in a peculiar manner, but Magina knew exactly what it implied. And that had him smirk for a change tonight.

“Oh, you’re so easy. Alright then you big horny demon.”

“Your puns are terrible. You should call yourself the Anti-Pun.”

“Haha. That’s funny. You got funny in hell.”

Magina decided he’d had enough of Illidan’s banter, so his hands found a firm grip on those horns of his brother’s. Illidan knew how the process went from here. Large hands shaped more like claws than fingers found Magina’s very trained ass and lifted, higher and higher until the Anti-Mage found a secure position to wrap his legs around Illidan’s waist. Terrorblade held him there with absolutely no intent of letting go.

But that wasn’t the interesting part of their bodies that touched. Magina knew exactly how to handle his impressive brother, and he took this bull by the horns tenderly. To be fair, they were very nice horns to be touching. Although Illidan was covered in hardy plate instead of skin, his horns were a little velvety and smooth to the touch. Magina ran his fingers over the grooves between the plates, and Illidan shuddered. Magina leaned close enough for his breath to ghost over the appendages, and Illidan trembled. Oh, so susceptible, this brother of his. Magina’s fingers were sliding higher, the tiniest of pressure applied to each tip of the finger. A sensual nightmare for the demon horn and Illidan closed his eyes, keeping the bestial growl in his throat for just a moment longer. The main event was yet to come and it wouldn’t do to reveal just how aroused he already was.

Magina knew anyway, he knew the tension lining his brother like he knew the little dips and hollows of his horns. Places he treasured and cherished the memory of. Not just with his fingers either.

Illidan was turning into pudding, and he hadn’t even started what he had in mind. It was too easy to conquer his brother like this. And Magina did not intend to ignore this chance. Just when Illidan’s grip tightened with impatience and squeezed his ass hard enough to make Magina wish he would just throw him down for a fuck, the smaller twin allowed his tongue a long, harsh lick over Illidan’s left horn. The demon nearly tripped and a moan tumbled from his mouth. Magina would earn himself more if he continued down this path, and he was hellbent on that. His tongue was tracing what his fingers already knew, and he closed his lips on the velvety surface to suck at the thin, soft skin that covered those horns and the plates. Illidan’s head was hard-pressed to remain utterly still and Magina had to utilize his hands for additional control now. He grasped his brother’s face by the sharp, pronounced cheekbones he so adored fiercely and hissed something unintelligible about keeping still.

Illidan obeyed, but his shoulders grew tenser anyway. The height of sensuality Magina was chasing him to was almost unbearable, and the demon marauder loved it.

His twin’s devilish tongue was a weapon in its own right, truly. It traced his horns, massaged every ridge and bump, worshipped the very tips of his proud appendages. This was, to Illidan, more intimate than having a devoted lover suck his dick. Only Magina got to lather his horns with such attention and tribute. It was a special little way of affection between them and there’d be hell to pay if anyone else were to attempt this, namely Illidan’s other dalliances, one winged Skywrath Mage and one impertinent elven Oracle.

No, this was Magina’s and Illidan’s special ritual alone.

And it was making Illidan so fucking hot, he could barely stand, let alone hold his brother up and allow his clothes to remain on that fine young body. But the pleasure that was coursing through his veins was utterly worth it.

Magina could taste himself on Illidan’s horns and had to wonder, as he often did, if he could ever reach the point of depravity to fuck himself on his brother’s horns. Illidan would probably love that shit. But Magina was also very occupied with hearing his brother so close to his damn climax. He was panting heavily into Magina’s chest, cursing, speaking in that damn sexy Ozkavosh language that Magina never really learned. He knew the important phrases, and he heard a lot about fucking in those mumbles. They made him grin, he was doing well.

Magina dedicated himself to the most sensitive spot of Illidan’s horns, the base. Almost like working a dick, really. Except he couldn’t really nibble or bite here. Instead, Magina settled for long, slow licks. Illidan cursed his name and pressed his twin to a tree, more to support himself than to squash the sexy little idiot in his arms. 

Magina didn’t stop, not until he felt shivers run through Illidan and knew that his brother had just come from having his horns sucked. Magina finished him off with a vicious kiss to the lips, biting at Illidan’s lip with little restraint. He loved the taste of his brother and even more so when Illidan stared at him with heaving breaths and satisfaction glowing in his eyes.

“You know, if people knew you get off on having your horns sucked, they’d send a bunch of hookers to the frontlines against you.”

“...You got funny in the jungle, didn’t you? Have you been smoking your dad’s armpit leaves again?”

“That’s pretty nasty, coming from you. Besides, Furion is half your dad too.”

“Hardly. I see more impressive persons in my ancestry.”

“Let’s not talk about Doom’s dick again, okay? I’d rather talk about yours.”

Illidan’s face turned into one gallant smirk and he allowed Magina’s fingers to stroke over the angled plates of his face.

“Talk?”

“Alright, not so much. Can you think of something better?”

“With you? Always.”


End file.
